1 comments/ 52781 views/ 4 favorites The Deposit By: jthserra The Deposit Years ago, while I was in college, I was always on the lookout for ways to score some quick cash. Yeah, I could pick up a few bucks selling off my old text books and I knew of a guy who sold his blood to the local blood bank, but I wanted something that would get me some decent money without a lot of pain. Selling my books didn’t bring in much, and the giving blood just sounded too painful so I gave up on the idea of making money so easily. As time passed I even considered getting a job. Fortunately, just before I started padding my resume, I ran into an old high school friend of mine on campus. One of the real brains from those days, top 2 percent of the class, National Honor Society and all that. He even made something called Academic All-American. Once we made it to college, his pre-med courses kept him on the other side of campus from me as I struggled though basket weaving and history for idiots. So it was an odd coincidence when I ran into him walking across campus. We both had a bit of time, so he proposed we stop in for coffee, where he ordered some cappuccino and I ordered water with a lemon. “Still hurting for money I see,” he smiled. “Yeah, I’ve been working on some schemes, but nothing really worked out. I even considered selling blood. I guess I’ll just have to get a job,” I replied. “A job, well, if you want a job that might work for you, but I think you might want to consider what I do.” “What do you do?” He smiled wryly. “Well, you could say I’m in sales.” “Sales? What do you sell?” He leaned forward and motioned for me to do the same. I leaned forward and after he looked both ways to make sure no one was listening in he whispered, “Sperm.” “What?” I said loudly. “Shhh, shhh, keep it down. Now listen carefully. I sell sperm, at the local sperm bank.” “Sperm bank?” I whispered, “I didn’t even know there was one around here.” “Yeah, all us med students donate, they are interested in smart sperm I guess. I could get you in, pretend you are smart,” he said with a goofy grin. “All you got to do is show up, let the good looking nurse give you a cup, go in the little room, look over their highly educational reading material and pop off in the cup. They even have a little access door from the room so you don’t have to walk back out into the lobby carrying your ample load.” “Damn.” “Yeah, that’s what I thought, but they pay you. I go back once a week.” Well I suddenly realized, my financial woes were behind me so my buddy fixed me up and I began hitting the place every Tuesday. Well after a few months, I ran into a problem and had to cancel my appointment at the last minute. They told me it wasn’t a problem and scheduled me for a Wednesday slot. “Now the doctor won’t be there on Wednesday, it’s a golf day you see, but as long as you are just making a deposit, that shouldn’t be a problem,” the voice on the phone sweetly informed me. So, on Wednesday at 9 am, I walked into the office, went to the desk and asked for my cup. The nurse looked at me with a leer and said, “Well on Wednesdays, the doctor isn’t here, so we do things a bit differently.” She grabbed a cup and said, “Follow me.” I fell in behind her, watching the incredible sway of her hips as she heading for one of the rooms. She opened the door, stepped inside and looked back out. Her short, curly brown hair bounced seductively as she nodded to me. “Yes, you can come in now.” I walked in and sat down on one of the chairs. She closed and locked the door, walked over to the small access door in the side wall and took out a bag. She moved a stack of magazines off of the table and perched at the edge. I noticed her legs, as her skirt hiked up a bit with the way she was sitting. Nodding toward my cup, she said, “Now don’t mind me, you get started whenever you like.” “But, ah…,” I began, but then fell silent as she hiked her dress up over her hips. Her white stockings had been supported by a garter belt and as she opened up her legs I could see she wore no panties. She reached over and opened her bag and pulled out a small vibrator and a larger dildo. Turning on the vibrator and moving it over her clit, she whispered, “Go ahead, I don’t want to have to wait for you.” Well, I stood up, unfastened and unzipped my pants. I pulled my pants and underwear to my ankles and, holding the cup in one hand, I began to stroke myself. In the meantime, she had started a rhythmic motion to the humming tune of her vibrator. I watched as she put the dildo in her mouth, getting it very wet. As she moved it down between her legs. One hand moved the vibrator over her clit, while the other moved the glistening dildo toward her lips. “You see, I don’t really need this to get off,” she said moving the dildo in a circular motion, “it’s just that you guys just seem to love this.” With those words, she pressed the dildo into herself. “Now you tell me when you are getting close,” she said breathlessly, “I want to time this just right.” “Oh damn,” I whispered, “I’m there now.” My hand was racing ferociously over my rigid rod. Suddenly, I heard her moan as she pushed dildo deep inside and pressed her hips up grinding her clit on the vibrator. As I stared at her coming in front of me, I began shooting my “deposit” in violent spurts, one after another. As her breathing calmed, she asked, “You didn’t spill any did you?” “No,” I responded. “Good, I do like my guys neat,” she said, handing me a Kleenex. As I cleaned up, she took her bag and my cup and pushed them through the access door. “Stop by the counter before you leave so we can schedule another appointment,” she whispered as she stepped through the door, closing it behind her. In a few moments I emerged and went to the counter. “I usually come here on Tuesdays…,” noticing her smile, I caught my unintended pun, “Ah, my appointment is normally on Tuesdays, but…” “Would you like me to change your appointments to Wednesdays?” I nodded. “Okay, well Wednesday it is, 9 o’clock okay for you?” “Yes, 9 o’clock is good.” “Ah, it was good for me too,” she smiled handing me the money. See you next week. I walked to the door and looked back. She waved as I stumbled out into the warm air, sliding my money into my pocket. “A pleasure doing business,” I whispered to myself. The Deposit The bank's rear parking lot at the Majesty St. branch was completely surrounded by the backs and sides of other four and five storey buildings and, as a result, usually tended to be a warm little area. This was partly because only the rarest breeze could find its way in, except down the narrow driveway, or the pedestrian walkway opposite that led through an alley and to Deschene Street. The other reason was because of how the heat radiated from the brick walls all around, making it like an oven on a really hot summer day, such as this particular late Friday afternoon in July. Darla liked it, especially in mid autumn when the temperatures began to drop. She carefully nosed her Honda Civic down the paved alley, temporarily in the shade before entering the lot and seeing the one other car there, an old, silver American car that sat low on big black wheels. It was backed up against one of the surrounding, windowless brick walls with a lone occupant behind the wheel. It wasn't as though her city was riddled with crime, not by any means, but she angled her little blue import into a space with two more between, separating the vehicles anyway. Since she was doing a deposit for the small, but rapidly expanding insurance company she worked at, she felt that some prudence was called for in spite of the effectiveness of the Halifax Police Department. Then she could just get home and pretend she was unemployed for the weekend. It hadn't been a good day from start to finish. She'd overslept again and she'd forgotten to do the laundry so, half asleep and in a rush to just get out the door, she ended up somehow choosing the one skirt she never would have worn, had in fact never worn. For the first half of the morning, Darla noticed, even half wondered, at how people seemed somehow different around her and finally settled on the fact that she'd been almost ten minutes late, despite her best efforts to be punctual since waking. She'd decided to stick her head in her boss's office to personally apologize over it, promise him it wouldn't happen again and so on. Just before leaving the washroom to go do that, she happened to see herself in the large mirror, understanding with a suddenly pounding heart why people were acting so differently. The business skirt she wore was originally part of a set that included a very nice blouse and blazer, both of which fit her perfectly. The skirt did as well, but it was way too short for work at the time. She'd put on a little weight since then and it was now even shorter and a bit too tight, showing everything she had as though she were selling herself. Worse still, it had ridden up. "Oh my God." she blurted at herself in the mirror, stunned. If it had hiked up any further, the bottom of her ass would have been hanging out. She quickly jerked it down as far as she could, wondering how in hell she could have failed to notice this sooner, like while she was putting it on that morning. Darla re-evaluated the apology to her boss and somehow got through the day that way. She turned the car off, pulled the door handle and kicked the door open, planting her left foot on the pavement before remembering the deposit bag on the back seat. Irritated, she reached back to grab it, then came forward again and got out of the car. She couldn't help noticing the man in the other car, or the smile on his face, and before she knew it, she was stopped, fixing him with a questioning expression as she took a good look at him. He was maybe a bit younger than her forty-four years, semi attractive in a rough/cute sort of way with short dark hair and a two day beard. The haircut was one Darla would expect to see on a surfer type, but this was no surfer. With those mirrored sunglasses, black T-shirt, a pierced ear and tattoo on his forearm, he was a lot more like some reprobate biker type, some road trash that blew in from the highway like a newspaper page from the next town, waiting for the next big wind to blow him away again. "Nice.", he said, pointedly looking down. She followed his gaze and understood right away. He was looking at the bottom two inches of colourful floral patterns printed into her black satin panties, the ones her skirt should have been covering, but had again ridden up. She hurriedly jerked it down in front, gasping in embarrassment, mortified at the view he would have had while she was getting out of the car. Her face turned beet red as she felt the hot flush run up her chest and to the top of her head. Without a word, she turned and walked quickly towards the rear entrance to the ATM hall, tugging her skirt down in back. "Real nice." he added. As a married woman, Darla didn't much care for the comment. As a woman, she was vaguely gratified by it. She quickened her pace in three inch heels, feeling his eyes on her ass all the way to the door. Once inside the ATM hall, she hurried to a terminal and began to recompose herself with the last official order of business for the day. She scowled, thinking that the ratbag could have politely told her she was in disarray while averting his eyes, because that's what decent people do. Of course just a small, respectful smile might have been alright. Just one that said he wasn't offended by what he saw. She smiled suddenly as she entered the dollar amount of the cash bag's contents, deciding that the occupant of the powerful looking car was nothing. Just some person one sees and never sees again, flotsam and jetsam of the every day crowd. Who cared what he saw? So what? Darla opened the large, scoop like door beneath the terminal, stuffed the cash bag inside and let it slam shut. While she waited through the usual five o'clock Friday internet drag, she realized her nipples were quite erect and hard. The flush began to come back and the grinding ATM in front of her seemed to provide the perfect musical score for this. She put her hand inside her blazer and grabbed the nipple between thumb and forefinger through her white blouse and large C-cup bra that matched her underwear. They were like swollen pencil erasers. She couldn't believe this and hissed a small sigh of surprise and pleasure, wondering if it was the man in the rear lot, or the skirt. Or both? She continued kneading and rolling it, pulling on it behind the left lapel of her blazer so that passersby on the sidewalk outside would think she was only fishing in an inside pocket for a bank card, or whatever. It felt very good. She was about to go inside her shirt, beneath her bra, when the ATM prompted her as to whether or not she would like to do another transaction. Snapped back to the real world, she realized what she'd been doing and was again flustered in the sun heated hall. She pressed the button marked 'NO' and removed her jacket while waiting for the receipt, fearing she'd drenched her blouse in her own perspiration, wondering what was wrong with her. Was it Dick, her husband of nine years? Dick, who used to be so exciting and fun, if not the brightest man in the world? Dick, who now sat on the couch as soon as he got home from work, drinking beer, watching stupid sports constantly, belching, farting and sleeping there half the time, too. Dick, the man who, while becoming ever more the disgusting, slovenly slob, seemed more interested in celebrity fluff who looked like the product of a union between a toothpick and a splinter than he was in her, his own wife. True, she'd put on a little weight herself in nine years, but she thought she still looked alright. The man in the parking lot certainly seemed to think so. The machine ejected the receipt, at the bottom of which was printed, 'HAVE A NICE DAY'. Darla sighed, her smile all but gone now. She took the receipt and put it in her purse along with the ATM card and began walking back towards the exit to the rear lot, her jacket over one arm. "What happened to Dick?" she silently wondered. He didn't seem to care about her anymore and surely hadn't lived up to his name in quite some time, at least not in a positive sense. Knowing him to be at home then, she pictured him there, sprawled on the couch. He wasn't her husband Dick any more at all, rather just a dick and, at forty-four, it was now too late for her; she'd be stuck with 'Java the Hut' for life. It seemed it wasn't too late for her nipples, though. They were still very erect and she could feel them working against the thin material of her bra with every step. Her breasts jounced and jostled pleasurably while she could, at the same time, acutely feel the satin sliding back and forth between her legs every time she moved a leg forward to take those steps. The ends of her dark brown hair, which was up in keeping with appearances for work, tickled at the sides and back of her neck, ears and sometimes under her jaw. As she glanced down for the push bar handle on the door, she noticed that her nipples now stood out beneath her blouse, straining at it and the thin bra cup. She regretted taking her jacket off, but it was so hot, it was too late, and to hell with it, anyhow. She only needed to get to her car and get home, Dick or no Dick. He was still out there, sitting in his car. Darla then remembered that she was alone in the ATM hall, so if he wasn't waiting on someone in the bank, what was he doing? He didn't seem interested in doing any banking himself, at least not at present. He was blatantly checking Darla out now as she walked towards him and her own car, and she could see through the lenses of her sunglasses a thin stream of smoke rising from behind his closed door and into the light breeze through his open window. When she got closer, she remembered the smell on the warm, still air from her teen years and it explained why he was there. He was holed up and smoking a doobie. Again, she noted that he really wasn't that bad looking, but definitely not her type. She couldn't help thinking of Dick again just then, waiting for her at home like a big, stupid slug and the regrettable irony of her thoughts concerning 'her type' didn't escape her. However, feeling better and more confident after having already made the deposit, she quickly made her way to the little Honda, ignoring her nipples, tickly hair and not thinking of what he'd seen of her panties. She lifted her jacket off her forearm and fished inside one of its two pockets for her keys, surprised to find that they weren't there and even more surprised to find that they weren't in the other pocket, either. By now, she was at her car. She turned her back on the vagrant to face it as she started a fervent search and rescue mission through the wilds of her medium sized purse, but they just weren't there. She looked at the car with mounting concern, realizing now that she'd probably left the keys inside it. Again. She took two brisk steps forward, grasped the door handle and,... it opened. "Someone could have stolen it you fool!" Darla hissed under her breath, scolding herself but, at the same time, relieved. In her rush to get the deposit done and being embarrassed by the shaved ape, she'd also forgotten to lock her door, an essential detail for having it stolen, but also for her to get back in without having to call a tow truck to come and get her in. Also, again. The keys weren't on either seat, or on the floor that she could see. That meant that she'd probably left them in the ignition, so she got in and found them not to be there. "Hm." Darla exited the car again, trying to ignore the man in the other car who was 'whooshing' his doobie and watching her with that same smile. She squatted down, knees together to get a better view under her seat, because they sometimes ended up there when she dropped them, but not this time. She straightened and bent at the waist, maneuvering her head and shoulders inside the coupe, peeling back the edge of the seat from the console where they would also sometimes get caught, but also to no avail. She was too concerned now to remember her skirt, or notice that it had ridden almost halfway up her hips. They weren't between the other seat and console either and, in remounting concern, she leaned further in, beyond the console and over the passenger seat in order to get a better look at the floor in front of it. "Oh, shit! What the hell!?" Darla mumbled in frustration. There was still the space between the passenger door and seat. It didn't seem likely, but where else could they be? She moved her left foot closer to the front of the open door and planted her right knee on the driver's seat, widening her stance and allowing her to brace herself better as she leaned in far enough to peer down over the far edge of the passenger seat. Unbeknownst to Darla, in her rushed, stressed, single minded desire to just find her keys so she could get home, the man in the silver car behind her had a front row seat to the full, pouted lips of her pussy. They were clearly outlined against and filling out the thin strip of satin straining at her crotch, dragging the outer seems away from the tops of her legs, bearing the very edges of those shaved lips. He watched her round ass bob and dodge enticingly and, when she spread her legs, everything else in the world ceased to exist. Meanwhile, the keys didn't seem to be on the other side of the passenger seat, either. She twisted over to take a close look at the back seats and floor before taking another look under the passenger seat, now that she'd gotten that far in. She had her face almost on the carpet, ass in the air as she peered underneath as best as she could. Just then, the door of the other car opened and then closed again with a hollow, rattling bang. Darla heard his boot steps approaching and started to feel better about all this with the impending help of this man. She may have been an independent woman, successful in her own career, but she was still a woman and, when things like this happened, she always felt better, that things would be seen to with a man on the case. The only problem was that this man's concern was mainly based around helping himself. If her head wasn't craning on the floor on the passenger side, she may have gone through the sunroof at the sudden loose, but firm grip he took on the backs of her thighs. After the initial start, she froze for a second in shocked surprise, thinking that there must be some other problem that he was assisting her with, one she wasn't aware of, such as a dangerous snake coiled beneath the car, ready to strike. Or some other reasonable explanation, because a man can't just go around- (!!!) He moved his hands straight up, not slowly, but not in any hurry either, so that his thumbs found their way to that spot where the backs of her legs turned into the very bottom of her ass. He kept on going, going until those thumbs found their way right into the back of her bikini panties and her tight little skirt was pushed to a rolled tangle at her waist. It was actually the electrifying feel of the crotch of her underwear tightening against her vagina, along with his hot breath between her legs that took her from the frozen, gape mouthed pose to one of sudden action. "Hey, what the hell!?" she yelled in affronted anger. "What are you doing!? Get off me, go away, you bastard! Hey!!" She was propping herself up with her hands on the passenger seat now, arms straight and franticly trying to look around, or over her shoulders as she attempted to squirm away from his grip. However, her round bottom took up most of the space between the seat and steering wheel and she didn't have much room to move at all in the tight confines of her compact while his grip impeded her efforts all too well, besides. "Hey, stop it, you creep! I SAID STOP THAT!" His reply was to lick the top of her right leg, right beside her now quivering genetalia. Her immediate and uncontrolled reaction was to buck her hips, driving her pussy into his face for a half second before she lunged ahead and away from him. She was beginning to panic now; this guy wouldn't be put off. She lunged again, twisted, jumped and squirmed as she screamed loud enough to deafen herself in the little car. As she began to tire in the warm car that had been in the sun with the windows up all day, a sudden and detached memory of something the saleswoman told her about this car flashed across her mind. She'd mentioned how well the factory engineering soundproofed this car from the stressful noises of the outside world,... She remembered the sunny, brick canyon beyond the immediate universe of her sound proofed car and understood that she'd never attract any attention or help for herself. Someone would have to drive in, or enter the lot via the pedestrian walkway from Deschene Street. When she'd tapped herself out from racketing around, he moved his hands to the insides of her thighs, spread them even further apart and then lifted her hind quarters right off the ground. He kept lifting until the small of her back touched the bottom edge of the roof in the doorway, the energy from his lift also forcing her legs to spread open as far as they could, a personal limitation that this man was somehow able to guess. Her legs were still outside the car, one caught in the crook of the open door and windshield post, the other she could see through the rear side window, jerking uselessly, knee bumping the glass repeatedly. She tried using the seatbacks to pull herself away from him, but his use of her own thighs spread across the door frame prevented success entirely. She was going nowhere and, as if to demonstrate this, he planted his mouth squarely on her panty clad pussy and sucked. "Ohhh, my God!" she yelled, mostly out of surprise and angry indignation but, for the second time, she instinctually bucked her hips, pressing her sex to his mouth all the harder for a moment, which accented the small, although undeniable pleasure in her tone. She'd been clinging to the top of the passenger seat by one arm, propping herself on the seat with the other, but now she felt herself going weak and limp in the heat. Heart pounding, she slid helplessly down until the side of her face rested on the seat. One arm rested in the foot well of the passenger side, the other disappearing towards the floor in the back seat. "Stop! ... Please stop!" she moaned, pleading through a dizzy spell now. He stopped sucking and grabbed the crotch of her undergarment in his teeth, jerking his head back and making some slack. His tongue was now inside, darting around her lips before he began sucking once more, this time directly from her moistening pussy. The heat and exertion had definitely made her feel faint and light headed and, at this point, her blouse was drenching in perspiration as she whimpered and squirmed under the onslaught of his mouth. Worst of all, she could no longer ignore the fact that her body was betraying her. She was disgusted with herself that she could enjoy this totally non consentual treatment in any way and had a new reason for wanting it to end. "Doooon't!" she went on. "Please,... Please stop! Please- Oh! O- Ohhhh-hh!" He'd driven his uninvited tongue deep between her lips, unapologetically scooping up her building essence with it, sucking it greedily into his mouth. "P-please, I'm m,... married! You can't do th- Ahh-ahhh-hhh!" He said nothing and seemed not to hear her, only shifted so that his right shoulder would prop her thigh so he could dine on her all the easier as he crouched there. At this point, she couldn't have crushed a loaf of bread between her thighs, let alone close her legs against his resistance, so with his suddenly free hand, he reached between her legs, under the crotch of her silkies and went directly up to find her swelling clitoris. He toyed with it lazily as he sucked her, teasing around it, flicking it once every second or so and every time he did, Darla bucked against his face without being able to help it at all. The Deposit She managed to turn a little ways on her right shoulder and looked down and between her legs to see his hand in her panties, working on her clit as his tongue supported its actions between her lips. She reached down to try to push his hand and face away, but it wouldn't work, so she could only watch the action in her bulging panties, mouth agape, gasping and bucking against her will as she waited to hopefully recover from what was now, obviously, a mild case of heat stroke. Darla took the waistband in her fingers, pulling up on them and trying to complicate things for his insistent tongue to a small degree. "Ohhh, nooo! Please st- Oh!" she cried in a weak voice as he flicked her clitoris. "Ohh! Ohh! Ohhhhh! Noooooo!?" She pulled her panties tighter over his knuckles, fearing there would soon be no resistance at all, neither physical, or mental, as she now fought with her own morals and sense of personal decency, her hips still bucking over and over as though she were some kind of wanton slut. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing them to stop without success. "Uhhh! Noooooo!" she cried again. He'd latched on to her clit in exactly the same way she'd been teasing her own nipple in front of the ATM machine only about five minutes ago. He pinched and rolled it slowly, humming his own pleasure into her canal now as she responded with a high, wavery note that was equal parts panic and pleasure. Now, to her utter humiliation, her hips were going like they were electrified, jumping and bucking into his mouth. She let go of her panties to use that hand to brace herself against the dash, then the console as she tried to pull herself away again, already knowing it was useless, but needing to fight in some way. Then, to her great relief and some dismay, he stopped his assault on her private parts and let her down. Still under the effects of heatstroke, she found her legs to be weak and somewhat unresponsive, so she just stayed how he set her, her tummy and pelvis on the driver's seat. Her left knee dangled just above the asphalt while her other thigh lay along the doorsill towards the rear of the car, knee bent and foot jutting awkwardly out behind her. Darla just thanked her lucky stars it was over. She guessed that the pervert had probably gotten off right in his pants and was now only interested in getting out of there before someone entered the lot. Her head continued to swim and she tried to clear the mental cotton from her head, trying to forget how good it all actually felt. But her silent attacker hadn't gone anywhere and, as it turned out, definitely hadn't already gotten off as he took her thighs in an overhand grip and, once again, used his strength to hoist her up. Placing her left knee in the inner door handle, he then quickly tied her right thigh in the seatbelt so that it stayed spread. She moaned, trying to close her legs somehow, squirming and pleading for him to just go away. Something warm flopped against her ass, sliding lazily between her cheeks and began working its way up and down her valley, pressing harder each time with only a piece of delicate silk between it and her. "Ohh, no! Please don't do that! I- uh-h! I have money in my puhh-! Uhhh? Ohhh!" The head of the man's penis had somehow found its way beneath the pretty flowers that shielded her sex and pushed up, parting her cheeks inside her panties and passing over her anus. He pumped her cheeks like that as she now had to twist to her left shoulder to see down and between her legs. His penis was large, as were his swollen balls, and he pushed against her harder, grinding the ridge of his head across her flower each time. After Darla's brief period of rest and relative inactivity, she managed to clear her head a little, finding that the less she exerted herself, the faster it did. She could even feel some strength starting to come back, but the car was still like an oven and seriously impeding her recovery. She eyed the passenger door, thinking that if she could rest up long enough to regain enough strength to make a lunge for it,... Her leg may slip through the belt and she could open the door and maybe get out. Probably not. Meanwhile, she could feel his manhood getting harder, almost convulsing its own size from itself, pulling the back of her panties away from her skin as it reached the top of the crack of her ass. He began driving himself with more force on each stroke, pulling the now tangled crotch up between her lips and sawing it back and forth over her clitoris. Her uncontrolled bucking started again and, despite her plans of escape, goose bumps spread from her midsection to the rest of her body, making her shudder in unwanted pleasure. He changed direction then, taking his member on an unhurried tour over her pussy, plowing along between her parting lips and bunting her clit, making her jump on its way by. The sight that now greeted her from between her legs was a long, thick, twitching bulge inside her panties. It looked so wrong, so dirty and utterly intrusive as the head rubbed around at the soft skin just above her clitoris. It writhed from side to side, back and forth like a weinerdog under a blanket and Darla found that she couldn't take her eyes off it. "Mmmmm! Nooo, please! "Oh! Ooooooohh! Ohhh, nooo,... please don't!", she crooned in a small, desperate voice. He was removing her will to resist his dirty actions with each stroke along her lips, each time his cockhead ran over her excited button. Her pussy was soaked and felt stretched open wider than the doorway she was trapped in. His rod started catching at her opening on its way by until it was finally deflected from its path and slid languidly inside her like a large snake going down a rabbit hole. The feel of his invasive head passing the threshold of her super-sensitive lips filled her awareness as she filled her car with a loud, uncontrolled wail until he was all the way inside. He seemed to occupy every square millimeter, stretching, pushing her outwards to the point where she thought she could describe every detail of his big, thick penis from the feel of it inside her. Even he moaned in pleasure as he ground his pubic hair between her cheeks, moving his prick around as though to make sure he didn't miss anything up there. She averted her attention from what was happening in her underwear and gazed at the passenger door, the last shred of determination she had within herself exploding like fireworks within her numbed senses. Now was the time to make a grab for the handle, right now and with whatever strength and will she had left. If she could even get it open, she could then at least scream for increasingly unwanted help with a small chance of being heard. At the very least, she'd get some air. She managed to grip the headrest at the top of the seat and the dash with her other hand, jerkily pushing herself up while he played inside her. Adjusting her grip to grab the edge of the dash, she suddenly pulled with both arms, at the same time trying to frog leg herself forward. She was able to reach the door handle quickly, wrapping her fingers around it without fuss and, as her body was still traveling forward as planned, the seatbelt loosening as it slipped down her thigh, she pulled the handle, waiting for her momentum to carry her- head first into the locked door. "Owww!" she cried out in pain, humiliation and defeat. She wanted to scream, this time in frustration at her helplessness to escape or resist, and she felt she was going to start crying any second. She probably would have, too. The vagabond's stiff member didn't quite leave her pussy during her escape attempt. He was holding on to her hips at the time and had been pulled forward by her lunge, leaving the head of his cock barely inside her. Suddenly, he yanked her backwards as he thrust himself into her forcefully, the sudden impact enough to make her jaws clack and she forgot all about crying. Instead, she issued a raunchy grunt from somewhere down deep, eyes wide in the understanding that he couldn't have been quite fully erect before her painful collision with the door. She bounced off of him and, as this reactive energy launched her towards the passenger door again, she couldn't help but see the door lock at the top of the door and even had the mental awareness and ability to make a grab for it. She almost touched it when she was jerked back for another bone jarring slam. She yelled in pain that was so good and, on her second rebound, went for the lock again, receiving the same punishment. So Darla kept trying to reach the door lock and, on the fourth try, her sunglasses flew from her face and bounced to the floor. After her sixth try, one of her breasts were jarred out of its bra cup, the seventh putting her in ecstasy but, after the eighth attempt, she gave up the pretense and any idea of escape. She allowed him to do what he would with her, since there was nothing she could do to stop him, since she really did honestly try. As though reading Darla's self admitted defeat through his buried penis, the menace to her body reached around and grabbed the narrow connection between her bra cups through her still buttoned, perspiration soaked blouse, using this as a handle to draw her in so he could pound her all the harder, all the faster. He grunted and gasped almost in time with her rising acoustics while he hammered relentlessly at her cervix as though he had a personal grudge against it. "Ooohh!- ooohh!- ooohh!- ooohh!", she sang, her reluctant pleasure turning him on all the more, driving him on all the harder. Darla had become a field day for him, her soaked cunt, her ass, her spread legged helplessness and those pretty panties that so captured his mind and imagination when he first saw them. For him, it was almost as though it was his first erection. As for Darla, she'd never had it like this. Never anything like this, certainly not with Dick. Not that she was thinking about Dick, or anything else right then other than the man's cock ramming her mercilessly. A few buttons on her blouse popped, accompanied by the sound and feel of fabric giving way. One of her bra straps let go at the back as her shirt came apart just under her left collar, tearing her sleeve down with one side of her blouse until the other bra strap stopped the renting and somehow held up against his strength. The breast that he'd already knocked out of her bra flopped out of her ruined shirt, followed by the other, its hardened nipple grabbed up by Darla. She pinched it between two knuckles as she squeezed her breast to herself and moved to the scoundrel's rhythm, hips rotated for optimal penetration, allowing him to better bang her senseless as she submitted with her mouth half open, eyes rolled back in oblivious abandon. He went on like this, just slamming her in a way as to suggest she was good for nothing else, that her existence served no other purpose. He had turned her into his little slut. With her sweaty hair mostly down and in her face, she thought she must have looked the part as more trickled down the crack of her ass, tickling and tantalizing. She loved the way his balls slapped the top of her pussy and wanted the son of a bitch to go on forever as he drove her towards the orgasm of her life. When she did near climax, she felt his cock start to throb inside of her and her pussy begin to tighten, but that's when he suddenly pulled himself completely out of her. "No!" she desperately protested. His cock slid back up inside the front of her panties and seeing it there this time brought her even closer as he shuddered, pumping his hot sperm out over her clit and sweaty lower abdomen. "Oh, fuck, you're perfect!" he gasped, speaking for the first time since he'd grabbed her thighs. "No, fuck me!" she demanded irrationally. "Sooo fuckin' perfect!" When the last of his seed finally expelled itself with a clearly felt twitch of the magnificent bastard's cock, it slithered out backwards until it was free. Darla whined insistently, shamelessly trying to spread herself out even further and drive herself back at him as best she could like a cat in heat, ass stuck up in the air and moaning. He was still hard and he could still get her off, but he didn't re-enter her. After a few moments, something landed with a jingle on the driver's seat below her as she reached between her legs to finish herself with her hand, seeing at the same time that it was her keys. "Somebody coulda' stole it.", he scolded breathlessly. A few seconds later, as she was plunging two fingers in and out of her pussy while rubbing her clitoris, she heard his car door open, then close with its hollow clatter. The engine started with a roar and then he simply drove out of the lot. It didn't take her long to bring herself to the best orgasm she'd had in a long, long time, despite her frustration and ire over how much better it could have been had he been at least decent enough to fuck her to it. Amongst her own cacophony, the interior of the car seemed to spin about her as, once again, her hips started violently racketing and banging around. She thought she heard the horn several times, but was too lost in her unmindful, screaming bliss to think about it. When it was over, she collapsed on her front for a time she couldn't measure. It could have been five seconds, or a minute but, when she did recover sufficiently, she shakily pulled her thigh, then her calf and foot through the loop in the seatbelt that he'd suspended her leg from. Putting her foot down on the pavement, she realized she'd lost that shoe, moved back a little and, her mind still full of cottony sex, lifted the knee of her other leg out from between the armrest handle and the door, letting that foot drop heavily beside her other. Slowly, she backed out of the car, straightened up and had her first breath of cool, fresh air in what seemed like a week. Supporting herself by the roof and the top of the door, she turned to lean against the side of the car and beheld two elderly Ladies who had obviously come through from Deschene Street and now stood in the otherwise deserted lot. She'd made a spectacle of herself and now here she stood with her skirt bunched up to her navel, blouse torn down one side, one breast hanging exposed with the long, broken bra strap and cup hanging down in front of the white remnants. She was acutely aware of how hard her nipples still were and the warm, slippery mess trapped behind the triangular front panel of her undies. Now, she was suddenly reminded of those wildlife encounter re-enactments on TV where both Human and Animal stop and stare, frozen in surprise as she stood facing the two seniors. Her glazed eyes were almost obscured by her long, sweat soaked hair, her feet slightly parted, toes pointed inward with her knees together. It felt like there was now a three inch gap between the tops of her legs. The Ladies' mouths were agape and it was a safe bet that the plastic bag full of groceries on the pavement was dropped by the one on the right. A large jar of what looked like Cheeze-Whiz was making steady progress down the gentle incline of the lot, back to the pedestrian walkway as though it had decided that life on the shelf in the store from whence it came was preferable to the awkward and embarrassing obscenity it had been witness to in the outside world. As they must have arrived after her attacker left, she knew there could be no plausible sounding explanation that she could offer them for whatever all they'd just seen, and it wasn't as though a polite apology for any offense they may have suffered on her account wouldn't be totally ridiculous and absurd. So, she did the one thing she could do. Knees still knocking spasmaticly, she retrieved her keys from the seat and, without covering her breast, or even pushing her skirt down, she got into the car and somehow got it started. She slammed the door shut, hit both power windows at the same time and began to hastily reverse out of her spot, suddenly coming to a screeching halt to open the door, grab her stray shoe from the pavement, slam it shut again and continue until she was racing out of the lot, exactly as the wonderful reprobate had minutes earlier. Darla pulled into the parking lot of a coffee shop less than a kilometer later, shaking. She hung her head out the window and waited for her tremors to subside. Now, out here, outside of the little brick enclosure, the real world of who she was, what her life was and what had just really happened had been going on and,... she'd been raped. She shut her eyes, gripped the wheel and saw it for what it was, remembered that she'd actually enjoyed it! She hated herself with the full force of her guilt, shame and humiliation as she gingerly touched on the fresh memories of the experience. Strangely, the more she reviewed these mental files, the more calm she became. She opened her eyes again, taking in the rush hour traffic, and this time allowed reality to include her 'event'. Now, having had enough time to completely regain her senses, being mostly out of the grip of over-exertion, heat stroke and the emotional stresses of the moment, it was a little simpler. She had just had some very good, if unexpected and totally uninvited, sex. Nobody got hurt, life goes on, no biggie. Right? Quite calm now, she straightened in the seat and fashioned her seatbelt, under which she tucked the wide strip of cloth that had separated during her 'event', so it covered her breast, the belt holding it in place. She ran her fingers through her hair a few times, quickly checked herself in the rearview mirror and then rejoined traffic. She wondered if it all meant that she was a slut. She didn't think so, kinky maybe, but not a slut. Kinky like he was. She suspected he was one of those fetish people, a 'panty freak' in his case, and found herself smiling a little at this, the idea that she'd had such an effect on a man (he said I was perfect) and remembered the feel of his cock pounding her to oblivion. Suddenly, Darla looked behind her and saw that her purse was still on the back seat where she'd thrown it, along with her jacket, just before she began her search of the car. He could have stolen it, could have had her address and telephone number. He could have stalked her, even cased out the house, waiting for Dick to leave her alone so he could get in the back door. He'd probably make her get that big thing out of his pants and maybe make her lick his balls. Suck his cock. (sooo fuckin' perfect!) Kiss the very head and get his precum smeared on her lips. The dirtbag would probably force her to deepthroat him and, when he came, he'd force her to swallow all of his hot cum. A horn sounded from behind her, startling her from her thoughts. The red light she'd been stopped at had turned green and her right index finger had found its way under the front of her panties and was playing in,... She hit the gas and removed her finger from its sticky playground, wondering again if she was a slut. Did thinking about sucking cock make her a slut? She used to do it herself and never thought she was a slut then. (?) Used to? Less than a kilometer later, she was neck deep in thoughts of sucking the bastard's shaft, pumping it with her hand, then being forced into his car and driven someplace where he'd throw her down on her back, violently tear her clothes from her and fuck and fuck and fuck her while he had her tits in his hands, her legs spread and sticking up in the air. Oh, yes. She drove into her garage, a completely different woman from the one who left that morning, stopped the car and, as the automatic door was closing behind her, removed her finger from beneath the front of her panties once again. She carelessly wiped it on her blouse as she got out of the car and threw the seat ahead, humming, 'I'll tumble for ya'. The Deposit Taking her jacket and purse from the back seat, she stripped off her ruined blouse and bra, standing completely topless, skirt piled at her waist in the garage. The ruined bra went into her purse and her shredded blouse was put on backward, her buttoned blazer covering the snowjob well enough. Unrolling her tangled and bunched skirt, she pulled it back down over her hips with a small wiggle and put her somewhat air dried hair up to the best of her ability. Picking up her purse, she slammed the car door and went inside, carelessly allowing the light, wooden screen door to slam behind her too, as usual. Darla looked around herself as though it was the first time she ever stood in her own kitchen. There was already an empty beer bottle on the counter beside the refrigerator. Looking at it, she suddenly walked to the fridge, opened it and took a bottle out herself, twisting the cap off and tossing it on the counter before tipping it to her lips and taking a long, cold, refreshing drink. In the living room, somebody on the television was discussing the long term viability of athletes who'd suffered previous groin injuries. She put the bottle down on the counter and walked languidly into the living room, stopping to the left of the couch where sat the immovable object of her life. He glanced at her and then returned his attention to the TV. "Where ya been? I'm starved." he reported sleepily. She didn't answer right away, simply stood there instead, openly appraising him and all that he represented in her life, appraising herself, or the person his involvement in her life had tricked her into becoming over the years. Dick's wife ambled through the room, down the hall to the bathroom and decided that, after the best hot shower of her life, she would re-do her hair and makeup and try to assemble a nice little outfit for herself to go out in. Something daring. She was going shopping for new clothes, nice clothes, like the short skirt she wore, and some lingerie too. After that, she thought she'd continue her little shopping excursion out to the edge of town where, just before the onramp to the highway, there was a place called The Juggernaut. She'd never been there, but remembered that every time she drove by, there were always big Harley Davidson motorcycles parked there, along with four wheel drive pick-up trucks and old cars like the one her reprobate owned. She may even find him there. She would tell him how rude he was. Just before kicking the door shut behind her, she offhandedly called over her shoulder, "Somebody had to make a deposit." End The Deposit Larry was deep inside me, deeper by far than my husband Mart had ever been or ever would be able to go. Mart lay on his side, next to us, stroking his hardon while I was on my back, legs apart, and Larry on top of me in a perfect example of the missionary position. I was having difficulty hiding my enthusiasm with each measured thrust that Larry made. Mart has a satisfactory and normal sized manhood member at around 7 or so inches. Today, though, I was the recipient of at least 11 inches and I was enjoying it immensely. I had already had 2 orgasms and another was building. I looked over to Mart but his eyes were riveted to my pelvis where Larry continued to thrust deep into me, then withdraw to the point that only the head of his dick remained inside. Then another thrust, followed by another, then another. Mart's eyes were glazed and he was breathing rapidly. I wondered if he was going to last long enough to take his turn after Larry finished. It looked doubtful. I turned my attention back to Larry and his lovemaking. I opened my legs as wide as I could to make sure he had as deep an access to my womb as his long cock required. Not only could I feel him "hitting bottom" as the saying goes, but actually stretching it. Larry wasn't much thicker than Mart, maybe a little, so the walls of my pussy easily accepted his width, but the back of my womb was certainly not used to the attention. I briefly wondered how sore I would be tomorrow, but for now, I just didn't fucking care. All I knew was that I wanted Larry to nail me, flood me, and finish me. I kiss him deeply, a further act of complete surrender. My orgasm was building and Larry's body began to tense and his thrust began to quicken. It looked like we were going to cum at the same time. "Don't cum in her," I vaguely head. "Cum in me!" "Don't cum in her," I heard again, more distant this time as a fog began to overtake me. "Cum," I groaned barely above a whisper as I involuntarily bucked my hips to meet his plunge. His hip crashed into mine, the muscles of both our bodies locked us together as his dick achieved his deepest penetration, froze and began the contractions that would move sperm from his body and into mine. The first squirt brought a flood of euphoria over me, the first of 6 waves. To my amazement, each of his contractions, also 6, was met with an orgasmic wave from me. It was a complete and total union. I can only describe it as perfect, so perfect that I knew that I would become pregnant from the act. At that moment I wanted to have Larry's baby. It was not to be, as I was on the pill. None the less, it was an intense experience. Larry had collapsed on me, perspiration dripped from him. My skin was clammy. I felt flushed, but completely satisfied. His sperm was in me with nowhere to go. There was no journey for it to take. In my satisfaction I could sense, imagine millions of sperm at my egg, each fighting to be the 1st to pierce its membrane and begin the process of making a child. The image was real enough that it nearly made me hyperventilate and I had to concentrate on controlling my breathing, and began to measure the amount of air I was taking in. Eventually I looked over at Mart. This time his eyes met mine. I had difficulty sensing his thoughts. Hell, I was having difficulty sensing my own at the time. I looked down at his cock. It was soft. He had spent himself. I could see his spunk in a long trail that spanned the distance between us, some of which had actually made it as far as me. There were goblets of it on my hip and side. He certainly must have cum hard, very hard. Larry was beginning to stir. His face, resting comfortably between my neck and shoulder, turned slowly in Mart's direction. "Sorry man," he muttered in reference to the complements he had placed inside me. "Shit happens," was his simple reply. "You okay, Marty?" I responded with a happy sigh. Yup, that's us, Mart and Marty, and at the moment, with Larry. How had this come about? Well, I'm no prude and certainly had not been a virgin when I met Mart, short for Martin. He was a young sergeant in the Army and I was drawn immediately to him for a quirky, odd reason. He had light skin, freckles, reddish blond hair, and as I would quickly discover, a huge sexual appetite. Me? I have light skin, freckles, reddish blond hair, and a huge sexual appetite. His name was Mart and mine is Martha, but everyone has called me Marty for as long as I can remember. Gawd! We could pass for brother and sister! We fucked our first night. I was so hot to try him. He felt the same way. We had discovered earlier that there was no possible way we were related. We were from different states, no shared relatives, and had nothing in common in our backgrounds. We just looked like we were brother and sister. It was so awesome a feeling to do him. He shared the same feeling. It felt to both of us like we were doing something sinful. I guess I could best describe it as fucking your alter ego. As a result, we shared our thoughts more honestly than most couples do, or at least more honestly than I had with anyone previous guy. He told me, over time, his deepest secrets and I told him mine. The more we told each other the more we wanted to know. Mart found out that I had lost my cherry at an early age in the back seat of a Volkswagen van and had been sexually active ever since. He wanted to know about each guy I had submitted to and I shared every detail. These kinds of conversations occurred both when we were in bed, but also when driving down the road, during meals, and at all odd times. He hadn't been with as many girls as I had been with guys, but I made sure he told me what he liked about each of them and what they did both in and out of bed that gave him satisfaction. Mart, like all guys, liked his dick sucked. I would make it a point to suck him at different times and different places, not confined to the bedroom. I would suck his dick in the car and any other place that offered a bit privacy. His asshole was sensitive and my tongue would often wander there accompanied by a finger that would make the slightest penetration. Since I loved sucking cock, Mart got a lot of attention in that way. My vise was oral also. Besides being fucked, a tongue in my pussy does wonders for my disposition. When Mart goes down on me, I am completely accessible, and open to suggestion. So with our fixation on each other's privates, it's easy to have very intimate conversations and share fantasies. One day, we were doing 69 on the couch with the television on in the background. We were stationed in Germany. There was only one TV station in English, the Armed Forces Network. It tried to please everyone, which meant that one hour might be a soap, followed by a sports event, then a game show, and so on. As a result, we often distracted ourselves by being intimate. Anyway, Mart's cock was in my mouth and I was doing tongue swirls around the shaft, one of his favorite things, when he started some sex talk, "What you need is a dick in your mouth and another in your pussy." Having said that, he stuck his tongue as deep as it would go. It felt good and my hips responded to the insertion. He kept it up, "A nice long dick to fuck you while you suck me." Again his tongue, then a finger. Again, I arched to meet the advance. "A deep fuck," then two fingers entered me. I moaned. This went on, became more intense, and finally I came all over his face. Another great impromptu session. He hadn't cum, so as soon as I caught my breath, I straddled him "cowgirl" style leaned in tight against him, began the ride and began whispering in his ear. "So you wanna bring me some dick? Some long dick? Yea, I'll fuck him. I wanna suck you baby and get fucked at the same time." He was groaning. I kept up the sex talk, "Got someone's dick in mind Baby? You know somebody with a big dick to fuck me? Huh? Baby? Huh?" To my surprise, I heard him weakly reply, "Yea." I continued, "What's his name baby?" I gyrated on his cock. "Larry," he said. This caught me off guard. I thought we were just fantasizing. Fantasies do not come with names. Now I was curious as to where this was going. "Tell me about Larry." I slowed my pace, but did not stop. Haltingly he said, "I saw it at the gym." "Saw what?" "His dick. It's big." "How big is it?" I asked, while at the same time tightening my cunt muscles around his saft and pulling my hips back, in essence my pussy pulling his cock, stretching it. "Maybe 4 inches longer than mine." "You want me to fuck him? You want him to do me?" Larry grunted, "I want to see you fuck him." "I'm gonna fuck him. I'm gonna fuck him real hard. I'm gonna let him put his dick right where your's is now. I'm gonna let him shoot his fucking cum inside my cunt." That was more than Mart could take. His cock contracted and his juices left his balls, shot out his dick and collected inside me. As most often does, his orgasm triggered one in me. We came at almost the same time, me just a few seconds after his. We were both spent and flushed. After a brief rest, we grabbed a shower. Afterwards, I put on one of his white t-shirts. He likes me dressed that way, no bra, no panties. That ended the session. Two days later, Friday, Mart came home early as was the custom. Everyone got off at 2 in the afternoon in case they had to do any shopping before the weekend. You see in Europe there were no K-Marts or even shopping malls. Mostly shopping was done during the week, not so many of the shops were open on Saturday. On Sunday, everything was closed. Mart came in. I was laying on the couch in the usual white t-shirt Mart liked to see me in. My pussy showed, again, as usual. When I looked up at Mart, I was shocked to see another guy standing next to him. "Hey babe, this is Larry. I invited him over for a couple of beers. Larry, this is my wife Marty." I jumped up and pulled the materiel down to cover my mound. It was way too late for that. Larry had seen everything. It was also easy to make out my red nipples as well through the white fabric as well. "Mart! You ass! You should have phoned." I said in an embarrassed and let out a little nervous laugh. "Babe, that would have spoiled it." I looked from Mart to Larry, who was looking at me. He said to Mart, without taking his eyes off me, "She's your wife? She looks like your sister." Mart and I have heard that so many times, but for some reason, still find it humorous, and we both laughed. "I'll get some beer," and walked away towards the balcony where the case of bottled beer was kept during the colder months. I knew both of them were eyeing my ass as I made my way. There was no way to be bashful when I opened the door enough to reach through, lean over, and grabbed three bottles of the German brew. Oh! In case you didn't know, German beer is much stronger than its American counterpart. Two or three bottles will not only relax a person, but lower their inhibitions as well. Note: Larry left Sunday morning.